


paint your eyes shut

by Zesty_Bill_Clinton



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gender Issues, MTF character, Makeup, Trans Character, Trans Jonathan Byers, pseudo lesbian behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zesty_Bill_Clinton/pseuds/Zesty_Bill_Clinton
Summary: Jonathan Byers has never felt very at home in their body, and when the world isn’t collapsing around them- certain things help them answer why that is(or drabbles relating to my headcanon that Jonathan is a trans lesbian)
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler
Kudos: 4





	paint your eyes shut

The first time you asked Nancy, she didn’t say yes. Instead her face went dark as the words slipped from your mouth and it seemed like she was reminded of something she didn’t want to remember.

The second time, Nancy asked you. You were both at your house, in your room, making out while your newest tape spooled out over the speakers. “Would you mind if I did your makeup?” She had said, breaking apart from your lips. You shifted away from her and nailed your mouth firmly shut, worried what would come out if you dared to open it. You nodded silently and watched as Nancy moved with determination. You watched her pull her purse off the floor, dumping the tools of girlhood upon the plaid masculinity of your bedspread. She unbuttons the top of your shirt, exposing your collar bones, before her light fingers dance up to your forehead where she threads a clip, pinning back your bangs. “So my foundation is a little lighter than your skin, so I grabbed my mom’s” You nod, surprised at the fact that she thought this through. That she _planned_ for this.

“Hopefully it works” she says through a small grin. she pours the skin toned cream against the top of her hand and dabs small bits of it across your face. She blends the foundation into itself with the pads of her fingers and it feels cool on your skin. She pulls out blush and rubs it into the brush, coloring the fibers brightly. It tickles your cheeks as it goes on. A small laugh escapes you and Nancy smiles warm enough to melt your heart.

“Close your eyes” she says after flipping open a small palette of blue squares. You oblige and try not to twitch under the feathery touch on your eyelids.

“I think it suits you.” She says after a moment, appraising her work so far. “Now I’m going to try and put on some mascara. You have to be very still so I don’t poke you.” She says it slowly and deliberately, raising the dark wand parallel to your gaze. “look up” she says, and you try not to move and blink as the bristles wash dark pigment over your lashes. Like butterfly kisses, your mom used to call them, before your dad told her to stop teaching you “girly shit” well, of all the girly shit you could be doing, Nancy putting mascara on you is at least fun. As you think this a warm feeling settles in your chest. It’s intimate, like a hug without contact- the air electric around your two bodies. You don’t mind the way it looks, either, the darkness collecting in your lashes drawing attention to your high cheekbones (one of the few things you actually like about your face). Nancy leans back to admire her work, leaving the mirror she ha dee you clutched in your fingers and you see the blush on her cheeks begin to match the artificial pigment coloring yours. You want to kiss her, to sing every ‘thank you’ that you’re feeling against her lips. That she indulged you like this, that she initiated it. It’s so much to take in that it freezes you in place.

Instead, Nancy kisses you. a quick peck at first, like this is some new you that requires hesitance (and maybe it is). Yet in mere moments you slip back into your skin, into the comfortable knowledge that the two of you have fostered since you started dating. Yet the color on you face adds something else, something exciting, and when you’re laying in bed later, after you’ve wiped it all off and called Nancy to make sure she got home safe, that something else stays, coiled low somewhere inside you.


End file.
